Why didn’t I die? Why does God hate me so? Why does He not want me? I didn’t die because I’m weak, because I am cursed! I hate this poisoned world! But most of all. The bridge was open. ’ ‘For shame, Hilary,’ admonished his fiancée, casting a pitying glance at the refugees. The door was locked; but, with the bars of iron, it was speedily burst open. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds.
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